Cool Hand Luke
by AtLoLevad
Summary: Tony and Tali spend Ziva's birthday in Paris. It's a happy one, I swear.


_A/N: The title will make sense at the end :)_

* * *

Tony woke up on Saturday morning before Tali, which was a relatively new occurrence for them. He yawned and stretched a little, shifting away from Tali. He smiled and looked over at his - their - little girl. She was sleeping sideways on the king sized hotel bed, one tiny foot pressed against his side and the other tucked into his armpit.

"Crazy, ninja baby," he muttered affectionately and his throat didn't even feel tight with sorrow.

He closed his eyes again and kept one hand wrapped around Tali's ankle, tethering himself to the present. He had a tendency to run through their greatest hits and his mind was working overtime today especially. Seven months on the hunt for a woman left a lot of time to think about memories of said woman.

Tony winced as Tali shifted and kicked his ribs. He knew she didn't know what today was, but for his own sake they were going to have to stay busy.

It was still early enough that the world outside the window was quiet, but Tony knew from experience that it wouldn't stay that way for long. Paris wasn't as noisy as D.C. or New York, but it had its own unique morning noises. He breathed in the quiet for a few more seconds before flipping back the covers and climbing slowly out of bed. He shivered, despite the blasting heat and scrubbed a hand over his face. He need a shave, desperately. Tali had been whining about his scratchy kisses for a week now.

With one last look back at the toddler, confirming she was fast asleep, Tony made quick work of a shower and shave, feeling a little bit more human. He was running some gel through his hair when Tali's high-pitched "Abba!" sent him jogging into the main room.

"Hey munchkin," Tony said, an involuntary smile spreading across his face. For all the sadness of the past seven months, his and Ziva's daughter was the ultimate bright spot. Her English was getting better, his Hebrew was still mediocre, but she could bring him out of his dark thoughts with a simple smile and a tight hug around his neck.

Tali blinked sleepily up at him and grinned, "Abba! Sants!"

Tony laughed. "Yeah, we can get croissants for breakfast, but you have to eat some fruit too."

He leaned down and lifted her into his arms, something loosening in his chest when she snuggled into his neck.

"Ima?"

Tony's heart clenched again. Tali asked for Ziva nearly every day and it never failed to make his heart hurt. The heartsick feeling was often punctuated with anger nowadays. He had followed the damn coordinates written on the back of the picture, staked out the hotel, staked out their café, hell, he and Tali had traversed Europe and Israel to find her.

He was starting to give up hope.

Tali patted on his cheeks, drawing Tony away from the darkness again.

"No scratch," she smiled happily, giggling a little.

Tony pressed a smacking kiss to her cheek, eliciting more giggles. "No more scratchy kisses for Tali!"

He talked nonsensically to her as they got ready for the day. It was cool out, and since his only plans for the day included wandering aimlessly around the city, Tali was appropriately bundled up.

He was going to have to figure out a long-term plan for them, but not today.

* * *

Tali happily munched on her chocolate croissant, pointing out each dog she saw. Tony laughed along, taking video to send to his dad and the team back home.

They wandered the streets for a few hours, popping in and out of little shops. Tony could almost forget that it was Ziva's birthday and that she wasn't here with them. Almost.

Around 2, Tali threw a tantrum in the middle of the Champs d'Èlyseè. Tony quickly hiked her onto his hip and scrambled to get back to the hotel. He should have realized that she would need a nap, but sometimes he forgot the toddler's needs.

As she napped, Tony fielded a Skype call from Tim. The workday was just starting back in D.C. and Tony could see that Tim was walking from a Metro station to the Navy Yard.

"How're you holding up?" Tim asked, a sad expression on his face mirroring the one on Tony's. It was so easy to forget that Tim missed Ziva too.

Tony thought about throwing his friend a sarcastic quip, making a flippant comment, but instead when he opened his mouth, he said, "I'm tired, Tim. She looks so much like Ziva. I miss her."

"Still nothing?" Tim sighed the question, camera bouncing as he walked into the NCIS building.

Tony lifted one shoulder and said, "Hate to say it McGoo, but I think T and I are going to have to face facts."

His voice cracked a little and Tony was very grateful that Tim didn't say anything about it.

"I'm still running searches on every phone number and alias Ziva's ever used," Tim said in response. Both men knew it was futile, Ziva would never reuse a cover, but Tony muttered a 'thanks' anyway.

Tim hesitated on the other side of the world before saying, "Maybe...maybe you should come home? I know Abby and Ellie and Delilah would love to get to know Tali better. We all would."

Tony grimaced.

He wasn't ready for that.

He didn't want to face D.C without her, not anymore.

"Or not," Tim said quickly, seeing the look on Tony's face. "Paris is really nice at Christmastime."

It was the wrong thing to say.

Tony's stomach lurched at the idea of spending Christmas - his _first_ Christmas - with his daughter, but without Ziva.

"I gotta go, Tim," Tony said hurriedly. "Tali's waking up."

A lie, but a convenient one to end the call.

Tim said his goodbyes and Tony jabbed at the end button on his phone. He deflated in his chair, elbows resting on his knees, and dropped his face to his hands.

He was so damn _tired_. He missed Ziva, missed life before. He wouldn't trade Tali for anything, but god, he missed how simple it all had been.

* * *

After Tali's nap, but before dinner, they decided to take another walk. Tony's French was less than adequate - languages had always been Ziva's forte - so it was easier to wander around as opposed to actually go into stores and try to communicate. Without even realizing it, Tony headed for the direction of Notre Dame Cathedral.

He was a lapsed Catholic, but something about the beauty of the building drew him in. It couldn't hurt to have a little extra help from the man upstairs. Tony sighed, maybe he'd light a candle.

"Abba!" Tali chattered at him about anything and everything. He caught a few references to the Madeline books he'd been reading to her.

Suddenly, the little girl stopped dead in her tracks and her eyes went wide. She wrenched her hand from Tony's and shrieked, "Ima!" before running, full tilt, down the sidewalk and towards the grand cathedral.

"Tali!" Tony shouted, his heart clenched in fear as she ran, surprisingly fast. He stopped short as Tali barreled into a woman's legs. The woman bent down, dark curls contrasting sharply against an ivory peacoat.

"No," all of the air left Tony's lungs in a sharp gasp.

Ziva straightened up, Tali on her hip. She bit her lip and offered up a sheepish half-smile.

"Hello, Tony," she said softly, her accent thicker than ever. Tali snuggled into her mother's embrace, looking more at peace than Tony had ever seen her. It made sense, he thought absently, Tali had always known something was off, someone was missing.

Tony could only gape at the woman in front of him, the woman he thought he'd never see again.

"Tony, please, say something," Ziva implored. She ran a hand over Tali's back and whispered something to the toddler, before kissing the tip of her nose.

Only one thing came to Tony's mind at that moment.

"What we had here," he laughed incredulously, "was a failure to com-un-icate."

"Tony," she exhaled his name on a sigh that's half exasperated, half laugh. Tali lifted her head from Ziva's shoulder and grinned at Tony.

" _Cool_ _Hand_ _Luke_ , Zee-vah," Tony replied, eyes bright with unshed tears.

"I know," she said. "I remember the reference. I suppose I should not be surprised that your first comment is a movie quote."

Tony lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. "What else can I say, Ziva? I thought...it...you were dead. Orli brought me Tali and you were dead. I work best in movie quotes."

Ziva was silent as she threaded her fingers in Tali's curls. Her hair had gotten longer since Ziva had last seen her, and Ziva's heart clenched at how big her baby had gotten.

"I did not want..." Ziva started, stopped, frowned in frustration as she searched for the words. "Maybe I should start with an apology. I am sorry, Tony. So sorry that I lied, about Tali, about my death, everything."

Tony held up a hand to cut her off. "Ziva, I want to be mad at you, and I was and tomorrow morning I probably still will be. But now? You're in front of me, in Paris, holding our daughter in your arms. I'm not mad. There's only one thing I want to do."

He strode forward, closing the small distance between them. Barely aware that he was squishing Tali in between them, Tony cupped Ziva's cheek in his hand and kissed her soundly, urgently, like a dying man taking his last breath.

She leaned into the kiss, smiling against his mouth, until Tali hit both of their shoulders, shouting, "Ima! Abba! Stop!"

The broke apart, laughing and a little breathless.

"I am sorry, _motek_ ," Ziva murmured, kissing Tali on the forehead. She cut her eyes to look at Tony, a small smile on her face.

They needed to talk, so badly, but it didn't seem like that would be happening tonight.

Tony had a goofy grin on his face, "Damn, Ziva. I've wanted - needed - to do that for three years."

She opened her mouth - to agree? She wasn't sure. But then Tony leaned in again and kissed her again, softer this time, less urgently, like they had all the time in the world.

"Happy Birthday," he murmured against her lips as he pulled back.

Ziva's eyes fluttered open and she smiled, bright and brilliant, at him.

"The best one I have had in a long time," she agreed. Tali knocked her head against Ziva's gently and babbled something in broken baby Hebrew. Ziva replied in kind and Tony melted at the sight of seeing Ziva be a mom.

"You're going to have to teach me that," Tony said casually, grabbing Ziva's free hand and starting down the sidewalk. It was just about dinnertime and they were going to celebrate.

"What?" she asked, eyebrows raised as she glanced at their intertwined fingers.

"Hebrew," he said simply. "I can't have my girls talking about me behind my back."

Ziva laughed and he couldn't believe how right - how normal - it felt to be walking hand in hand with Ziva down Parisian streets as she held their daughter. The insanity of it all would probably catch up to him soon, but for now, all was right in the world.

"Hebrew is a difficult language to learn, Tony," she warned. "Do you know what you are getting into?

Her words had a second meaning that Tony didn't miss. He grinned down at her.

"I'm..." Tony paused, looking for the right word. He settled on, "Persistent."

"Yes," Ziva looked at him with soft eyes, "you are."

* * *

 _A/N: I am SO HAPPY i got this written in time for Cote/Ziva's birthday today :) It took me all damn week, but it's done. It all came from the two lines where Tony quotes Cool Hand Luke to Ziva. It thought it fit perfectly. Let me know what you think :)_


End file.
